


Grandpa Joxter

by soft_but_gremlin



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Good Grandparent Joxter, Good Parent Snufkin, Joxter is World's Okayest Dad, Joxter meets his grandkids, Mixed Canons, Moominmamma appreciation, The Author Took Several Different Moomins Media and Threw Them Into the Stew, The Author is Playing Calvinball with Moomin Canons, The Moominparents are Snufkin's Parents Too, background pining snufmin, he's trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 10:11:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21318469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soft_but_gremlin/pseuds/soft_but_gremlin
Summary: “Are you Grandpa Joxter?” the child asked timidly.For a moment, Joxter was offended. His namesake, Grandpa Joxter, was almost a hundred years old, and Joxter was certain he did not look nearly that. Then, he realized what these little things probably were, considering that they’d come from across the bridge.“I suppose that depends…” Joxter said. “...is Snufkin your daddy?”Joxter visits Moominvalley and is quite surprised to find that his son has had children, and hadn't even bothered to tell him. Ah well, nothing to do about it except make them pancakes and spend the day with them!
Relationships: Joxaren | The Joxter & Muminmamman | Moominmamma, Joxaren | The Joxter & Muminpappan | Moominpappa, Joxaren | The Joxter & Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Joxter & the Woodies
Comments: 22
Kudos: 235





	Grandpa Joxter

Joxter was sitting on the porch of Moominhouse, smoking. He’d arrived quite early in the morning--the sun hadn’t even risen yet--and was wondering whether he ought to wake everyone up, or stay hidden and see how long it would take them to notice there was someone else in their home. Both options seemed like a lot of fun, honestly.

Then, he noticed a few little creatures toddling toward him. He racked his brain for what they were. They were covered in fur of earthen tones, with heads of hair that sprouted in tufts shaped like little leaves, and they had little tails with a similar tuft on the end...ah, they must be woodies.

“Hello little ones,” he called out softly, as they approached.

One of them came forward, the bravest of them all. “Are you Grandpa Joxter?” it asked timidly.

For a moment, Joxter was offended. His namesake, Grandpa Joxter, was almost a hundred years old, and Joxter was certain he did not look nearly that. Then, he realized what these little things probably were, considering that they’d come from across the bridge.

“I suppose that depends…” Joxter said. “...is Snufkin your daddy?”

“Oh yes!” the little creature said, excitedly. “He is our daddy, and he is the _ best _ daddy in the world! He let us break into a jail and color pictures!”

“He took us to a play last spring too! And watches the ones that we make!” another one said.

“He gave us all handkerchiefs and takes us on camping trips!” a third said, already pulling a little white handkerchief out of its overalls to show him.

“Hmm,” Joxter said. “Well then I suppose that does make me your Grandpa Joxter.”

The woodies shrieked in delight and ran back towards Snufkin’s tent, leaving Joxter feeling incredibly confused, and somewhat offended that Snufkin already had three children and didn’t even bother to tell him. That boy was just like his mother!

He went back to smoking, thinking about his new status of grandfather. He’d barely had time to adjust to his role as a father! Perhaps that’s why Snufkin didn’t tell him, to let him settle into one role without scaring him off with another. Or maybe Snufkin didn’t know until after they were born? Frankly, Joxter wasn’t even aware that Snufkin _ liked _ girls.

“Grandpa Joxter!”

Joxter looked up. Where there had been three woodies, there were now...he quickly counted. Twenty-_ four? _ Twenty-four little children, all roughly the same age?

Joxter fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. That boy really _ was _ just like his mother. He certainly didn’t wait to get started either.

“My goodness!” he said, voice betraying nothing but delight. “Are _ all _ of you Snufkin’s children?”

There was a chorus of “Yes!”es and “We are!”s. 

“Oh, and who is your mummy then?” Joxter asked.

“We don’t have one!” one of the woodies said, and there was murmured agreement.

_ Fair enough _, Joxter thought. If he’d had to give birth to double-dozen-uplets, he might quit the family too.

“Well, it is certainly nice to meet you all,” Joxter said. Several of them rushed forward to hug him, and then he was suddenly covered in children. It was just like when he’d come back to Mymble’s house after an extended trip, though usually the ones who liked him there weren’t quite so young anymore.

It was only a few moments later that they decided that he was family enough to ask for food. “Grandpa, I’m hungry!” one of them complained. Several more voiced their agreement, and then someone said, “Grandpa, can we have pancakes?”

“Uhh…” Joxter said. He certainly didn’t have the things needed for pancakes.

“Please, Grandpa? Oh please can we have pancakes?”

Soon there was a chorus of pleading. Joxter didn’t have the things that were necessary for pancakes, but he sure knew that Moominmamma did, and he couldn’t say no to those pleading eyes.

“Okay,” he said, and his grandchildren cheered. “But, we’re going to have to be very quiet for breakfast, understood? We have to go into Moominhouse for pancakes, and the Moomins aren’t up yet, so we have to be very quiet and not wake them up. Got it?”

The woodies all nodded, suddenly silent as the grave. Joxter was amazed. He would have needed at least five more minutes to quiet down Mymble’s kids.

“We’re also going to all have to work together to make the pancakes and clean up afterwards, so I’m going to sort you into groups so that everyone does a little bit of work and no one has to do all of the work, okay? Does that sound fair?”

Again, the woodies nodded. Joxter took a few moments to sort them into a group to help with the pancakes, a group to set the table, a group to clean up the table afterwards, and a group to do the dishes.

Dawn was just breaking as they went inside Moominhouse, so Joxter didn’t bother turning on the lights. He had night eyes, and woodies had night eyes, and the dawn would soon provide more than enough light anyway. True to their word, the grandkids were as quiet as they could possibly be.

Once Joxter had realized that the table only had eight seats, he switched plans. Spotting Moominmamma’s picnic basket (with a blanket already conveniently in the bottom, wonderful!), he gently set as many wooden plates as he could find into it. Then, he had the setting-the-table woodies take the picnic set outside and set up, and told all the groups but the helping-with-pancakes group to sit outside and wait. He watched them set up through the kitchen window, and had the helping-with-pancakes woodies get two pans, the flour, milk, baking powder, butter, and salt. He grabbed the egg carton himself, not wanting them to drop it.

He let the woodies measure and stir the ingredients, and then he cooked the pancakes in two pans, figuring he might as well get them done twice as fast. He made about sixty of them, letting the woodies take out a stack of pancakes every few minutes. Naturally, the woodies didn’t eat all of them, but by the time they’d decided they were full, Moominmamma was already making her way downstairs. At her bemused instruction, the leftover pancakes were placed in a stack on the table, the dishes were washed, the picnic basket put away and the blanket put in the laundry, and the children led out of the house by Joxter, who stole two pancakes on his way out the kitchen door. Moominmamma was left standing in the kitchen, wondering if she had actually woken up yet at all.

Joxter stood outside, with his grandchildren all huddled around him. He had expected them to run back to their daddy’s tent after breakfast, and leave him alone, but it seemed that they had grown attached to him.

“What are we going to do now, Grandpa?” one of them asked.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Joxter said. “Are you tired? Do you want to go back and sleep?”

There was a chorus of giggly “No!”s and so Joxter tried to think of something else to do.

“Well, it was very kind of Moominmamma to let us use her kitchen like that,” Joxter said. “I think we ought to go pick mushrooms for her as a thank you. Does that sound good to everyone?”

A sea of nodding answered him.

“Good,” Joxter said. “Into the forest we go then. Be sure to be very quiet when we go by your daddy’s tent, we don’t want to wake him up and make him grumpy!”

With that, he herded his swarm of grandchildren into the forest.

Once they’d gotten a good distance into the forest, Joxter realized that none of them had any baskets or anything to actually collect the mushrooms. He thought for a moment, and then asked, “Does everyone have their handkerchiefs with them?”

Most of them did.

“Is everyone’s handkerchiefs clean?” he then asked.

Now it was down to about half. Joxter was impressed that there were that many of them who actually did have clean handkerchiefs. Moominmamma must have had a lot of influence in Snufkin’s parenting style. The thought made Joxter feel guilty, as he always did when thinking about how the Moomins had been more of a family to Snufkin than he and Mymble had. Still, the past was the past, and he and Snufkin had already had several long talks about it, so for the moment, he pushed those thoughts aside.

He pulled out his own handkerchief, and sat down on the ground. The woodies mimicked him. “Okay, so we’re going to need something to put all the mushrooms in, so I’m going to teach you how to make a little bag out of your handkerchiefs.” He paused for a moment to check their attentiveness. All eyes were on him.

As he explained each step, he demonstrated it on his own handkerchief, holding it up so that all twenty-four grandchildren could see. “First, you are going to fold your handkerchief diagonally, so that it forms a triangle. Everyone see?...alright, does everyone have that done?...okay, next you tie a knot at both folded corners, like this...okay...and when you’ve done that, just flip it inside out, and now you have a little bag! And if you want to sling it over your shoulder or put a stick through it, then just tie a little knot at the two remaining ends just like this, and hang it on any old stick you come across.”

The woodies were delighted with their little bags, and eagerly slung them on sticks, or on their arms, or stole them if they didn’t have their own handkerchief. They were very small, and would probably only hold five or ten mushrooms, but considering how many children he had with him, five mushrooms each would be plenty of mushrooms for Moominmamma.

“Okay, everyone,” Joxter said, and was once again surprised by how quickly they quieted down for him. “Firstly, everyone who does not have a handkerchief needs to stick with someone who does, so go ahead and get into little groups now.”

The woodies quickly arranged themselves into little groups of two to five. Good.

“When we find an edible mushroom, I’m going to show you what it looks like, and then you must be very careful to only pick ones that look like that one, okay? There are lots of kinds of mushrooms in the woods, and a lot of them are very poisonous, and that could make the Moomins very sick. In fact, before you pick a mushroom, check with me and make sure it’s an okay mushroom. Understand?”

The woodies all nodded.

“When you pick food in the woods, you must also be mindful of the creatures that live here. When you find a patch of mushrooms, don’t pick more than half of the ones there, that way you leave some to grow and for the birds and animals to eat. And only pick three or four overall. Once you’ve found four mushrooms to put in your handkerchiefs, you win and you’re done for the day. We’ll stop when everyone wins or when everyone’s tired, alright?”

The woodies nodded again.

“Finally, I want you all to stay within earshot. These woods aren’t that big, but your daddy would be very upset if any of you got lost. If you get to a point where you aren’t certain where I am, shout out ‘Marco!’ and I’ll shout back ‘Polo!’ until you find me. If you shout ‘Marco!’ and I don’t say ‘Polo!’ back, that means you’ve wandered out of earshot. Stay exactly where you are, and sing any song that you can think of until I find you. Got it?”

The woodies nodded.

“Okay, if you’re lost, what do you shout?”

“MARCO!” they all yelled.

“Polo!” Joxter said. “Very good, grandchildren! Alright, let’s go.”

~

It was midmorning when Snufkin burst into the living room, frantic.

“Apologies for bothering,” he said. “But have you seen the woodies? They weren’t in or by the tent when I woke up, and I didn’t see them anywhere around the campsite!”

“You _ lost _ them?” Little My asked.

“Yes!” Snufkin said. “And I’m very keen on finding them again!”

Little My giggled. “You get more like our mother every day!”

Snufkin glared at her.

“We haven’t seen any of them,” Moominpappa said. “You ought to ask Mamma, though, she’s out in the garden.”

“Okay, thank you!” Snufkin said, darting out again.

“Snufkin, wait up! I’ll help you look!” Moomin said, dashing after him. Little My rolled her eyes.

“Next thing you know, they’ll be _ co-parenting _,” she scoffed.

Moominpappa didn’t even look up from the newspaper. “And there’d be nothing wrong with that,” he said. “With twenty-four children, that boy needs all the help he can get. He’s quite lucky the new Park Keeper likes to watch over them most of the time, it would be very difficult to be a vagabond with two dozen children in tow.”

Snufkin and Moomin raced over to where Moominmamma was tending to her roses. “Hello, dears,” she said, seeing them approach.

“Hello, Moominmamma,” Snufkin said. “Have you happened to see the woodies today? I’ve lost every single one of them.”

“I believe they’re out with Joxter,” Moominmamma said. “They were certainly with him this morning, making pancakes in my kitchen.”

“Do you know where they are now?” Snufkin asked.

“No, I’m sorry. Maybe he took them to the beach, or into the forest to play?”

Snufkin still looked worried, but now that he knew that they hadn’t run away or gotten into danger, he was a little less frantic. “Thank you, Moominmamma. I think we’ll go down to the beach and see if they’re there.”

With that, he and Moomin took off again, though this time at a brisk walk rather than a sprint. Snufkin was still impatient to find his children, but with no clue as to where they were other than that they were with his father, he settled in for a long search.

~

After about two hours of searching for mushrooms, most of Joxter’s grandchildren had “won” mushroom picking, and the ones who hadn’t were getting bored. So far, he’d only managed to lose two children, who were quickly found again, so he felt that he was doing pretty well. He waited a few more minutes, let a few more children win mushroom picking, and then whistled sharply and called out, “Alright children, gather round!”

The woodies quickly ran over to him, and he did a quick count. Thankfully, all twenty-four of them were there.

“I know that not everyone has picked four mushrooms, but it seems to me that a lot of you are getting tired. Is there anyone who still wants to pick their last mushrooms, or do we all want to go back and surprise Moominmamma with all the ones we’ve already picked for her?”

The children thought very hard over their two options. Then, one of them piped up, “I still want to pick another mushroom!”

“Okay,” Joxter said. “Anyone else?”

None of the others did.

“Alright, then I want the other twenty-three of you to sit down and wait for us, okay? Don’t wander off, because then you’ll get lost. In fact, while you’re waiting, why don’t you all take out your mushrooms and arrange them biggest to smallest? Try and see if you can get them all sorted by the time we return.”

Hoping that the children would follow his directions, Joxter took the little one further into the woods, letting her wander until she found some mushrooms. The little white ones she’d found would have been perfect to pick, except…

“Let’s leave those ones alone, they’re part of a fairy’s circle,” Joxter whispered. “Always be careful not to step inside of those, or pick mushrooms from them.”

He steered her away, and they searched for a bit longer until she found some that were both edible _ and _ not part of a fairy circle.

Upon their return, Joxter saw a furry brown creature had approached his grandchildren. It seemed to be trying to bully them into letting it take their mushrooms. The woodies were shaking, and really, that’s all Joxter needed to know to decide that he didn’t like the creature.

“Hey!” he snapped, to get its attention off of his grandchildren and onto him. One of his hands was gripped tight by the woodie he’d been picking mushrooms with. The other curled around the knife in his pocket. Moominvalley wasn’t known for its danger, but that didn’t mean that nothing there was dangerous.

The creature whipped around towards him. For a brief moment, its eyes widened in fear, but then it steeled its nerves. “Well well,” it said. “If it isn’t Snufkin with some new clothes, here to ruin our fun. I was just asking these little kids to share, but they’re being very greedy!”

Joxter gave a cold grin, and raised his chin up enough that the creature could see his blue eyes from under the hat. It was a move that past acquaintances had often called “frightening,” especially since his reflective eyes often seemed to glow a bit. It had the intended effect: the creature gave a small gulp.

“I’ll forgive the fact that you’ve mistaken me for Snufkin,” Joxter said, with almost a playful air to his voice. “He’s been in Moominvalley far longer than I have, and people say we look an awful lot alike. I’d like to _ kindly _ suggest that you leave now, though, and that you never ask my grandchildren for anything _ ever _ again.”

The creature’s eyes were wide now, seeing that Joxter was not a familiar vagabond, but rather a totally unknown, and seemingly extremely dangerous, threat. “No sir not ever again sir goodbye sir!” it said, sprinting off into the wilderness.

Joxter watched for a moment to make sure the creature disappeared for good, and then turned to the frightened children. “Are you alright?” he asked, kneeling down toward them.

It was like a dam burst. Joxter’s lap was suddenly full of children, some of them crying, all of them seeking comfort. “It’s all right,” Joxter said, starting to purr a little to comfort them, and attempting to hug as many children as he could at once. “That creature isn’t going to bother you anymore. You were all very brave, and I’m so sorry for leaving you. It’s alright now.”

He continued to mumble comfort towards them and purr until they calmed down. Then, he had them gather up their mushrooms--praising how well they’d sorted them first, of course, and they’d even arranged it in a circle, how lovely!--and they made their way back to Moominhouse. At first, he had several woodies in his arms and coat and on his shoulder, with many more clinging to the bottom of his coat or to his pant legs or sleeve elbows, but as they walked, he started to sing a happy little song, one of Snufkin’s that he’d picked up, and soon most of them were back to their giggly, confident selves.

~

Moomin and Snufkin had combed the beach, and there was no Joxter or woodies to be found, so they headed into the woods, occasionally calling out for the woodies or for Joxter in the hopes that they’d answer.

They didn’t. Stinky did.

“You’d better quiet down!” Stinky said, dropping down from the trees. “There’s someone dangerous in these woods, you wouldn’t want to disturb him!”

Normally, Snufkin wouldn’t pay Stinky much mind. The fear in his voice, however, made him pay attention.

“Someone dangerous?” he asked.

“Oh yes!” Stinky said. “Dangerous, and unnatural!”

“Unnatural?” Moomin asked, already getting nervous.

“How so?” Snufkin said, with flat curiosity. 

“He looks very much like you, Snufkin, but with different clothes and bright, glowing blue eyes and horrible sharp teeth! He has a bunch of little baby creatures with him too, that arrange mushrooms into circles like fairies do! I’d stay far away from him if I were you, he seems like something that might eat vagabonds or trolls for breakfast!”

With that, Stinky bounced off. 

“We’d better find your dad and the woodies quickly, before that dangerous person does!” Moomin said, worried.

Snufkin was much less concerned. “I think that the ‘dangerous person’ and my dad are one and the same,” he said. “I wonder why Stinky’s so afraid of him.”

“It couldn’t be!” Moomin said. “Your dad’s really nice and not at all how Stinky described that man!’

Snufkin shrugged. “Really, what’s the chances that they’re _ two _ blue-eyed fellows who look like me and have a bunch of children following them around in the woods though? I’m inclined to believe they’re the same person.”

Moomin still looked worried. “Either way, I think we should find your dad as soon as possible.”

Snufkin hummed an agreement. Quickly, they pushed further into the woods.

~

It was a little past lunch time when Joxter returned to Moominhouse with the woodies. Despite this, Moominmamma was happy to make sandwiches for the hungry children that had given her so many mushrooms as a gift.

“Did Snufkin and Moomin ever find you?” Moominmamma asked.

“Uh, nope,” Joxter said. “Why? What did they need me for?”

“Oh, Snufkin worked himself into quite the panic worrying that all the children had gone missing,” Moominmamma said. “When I told him they were with you, he decided to go looking for you.”

“Ah,” Joxter said. “Then I’ll stay nearby with the kiddies so it’s easier for him to find us.”

“I’ll go find them and tell them to come back!” Little My said, running out the door.

Joxter felt a tug on his coat. When he looked down, one of the grandkids was making grabby hands toward him--the one who’d wanted to pick an extra mushroom in the woods. Automatically, he picked her up, settling her on one hip.

“I have to say, Moominmamma, you seem to have made quite the impression on Snufkin,” Joxter said.

“Oh?” Moominmamma asked.

“Probably for the best,” Joxter said. “Out of all of us, you’re certainly the best parent, and I’m glad that Snufkin’s got the fortune to have you in his life. And I’m glad that you’ve been there for Snufkin while Mymble and I...weren’t.”

Moominmamma wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. It was the most serious thing that Joxter had ever said to her, and for some reason those few short sentences had her overcome with emotion. Luckily, she didn’t have to say anything, because the woodies perked up at the word ‘Mymble.’ The distraction meant that Joxter didn’t see her wipe at her eyes with her apron.

“Grandpa, will you please take us to meet Grandma Mymble?”

“Please please oh please?”

“I wanna meet Grandma too!”

Joxter chuckled lightly. “Not today, little ones. Grandma Mymble isn’t in the valley with me.”

There was a chorus of disappointed “Aww”s.

“Maybe I’ll bring her with me next year, or convince your daddy to bring all of you to her,” Joxter said, unwilling to crush their hopes entirely. “It’s difficult to find her sometimes. She lives in the ocean now, on the back of a giant turtle with all of her younger children.”

“Is Grandma as wonderful as you?” a woodie asked.

“Even more so,” Joxter said. “Possibly even almost as wonderful as your daddy.”

Some of the children gasped. _ Two _ people _ that _ wonderful? They weren’t sure it was possible.

“Do you love her?” another asked.

“Very much,” Joxter said.

“Do you love her more than us?” a different one asked, timidly.

Joxter opened his mouth, and then shut it. This conversation was giving him deja-vu from the day after he met Snufkin.

“No,” he said. “I love your grandmother just as much as I love all of you, but I love her differently than I love you all and your daddy.”

“And do you love daddy the same amount too?”

“Yes,” Joxter said.

“Are you and grandma married?” another asked, with an air that said he had been waiting patiently but could not contain the question any longer.

“Nope,” Joxter said.

The children gasped, though Joxter wasn’t sure why. He was pretty certain that Snufkin wasn’t married, although who really knew what had gone on since the last time he’d seen his son?

“I thought all old people were married!” one of the woodies said.

Joxter fought the urge to bristle. By the Groke, he was only forty-three! Instead, he shared a _ look _with Moominmamma, who was stifling a laugh.

“Marriage is what happens when two grown-ups who love each other very much want to tie themselves together in the name of the law,” Joxter said. “It’s not in the nature of either me or your grandmother to tie ourselves down to anything or anyone, so we didn’t get married.”

The children seemed ready to ask more questions, but Joxter was done answering them for now, so he changed the subject.

“Alright kiddies, time to help Moominmamma clean up, and then it’s naptime.”

There were only sounds of disappointment, along with protests of not being tired. Joxter heard that often enough with Mymble’s kids that he knew how to deal with it.

“You don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to, but if you’re all very good at laying down and pretending like you’re sleeping, I’ll tell you a story.”

That perked them up, and there was a flurry of activity as plates were put into the sink, washed, and dried. Once that was done, Joxter herded the children away from Moominhouse and over to a sunny incline near the river, still within view of both Snufkin’s camp and Moominhouse. He laid down himself, and the woodies were quick to curl up either on top of him or against his sides and avidly pretend to sleep.

“Alright, now this is a story about your great-grandma--my mother--and how she met your great-grandpa, fell in love, got in trouble with the law, and joined a pirate crew for a while.”

“Wow!” a woodie said, sitting up excitedly. The others were quick to shush him and pull him back down to pretend to sleep. 

“It all started many years ago, in a town far across the sea…”

~

When Moomin, Snufkin, and Little My finally made their way back to Moominhouse, Moominmamma and Moominpappa were sitting on the veranda drinking lemonade, and a camera was sitting on the table by Moominpappa. As they approached, Moominpappa called out, “They’re all taking a nap in the meadow over there, Snufkin! It’s really quite adorable!”

Snufkin took off in the direction Moominpappa pointed. Moomin followed. Little My didn’t bother, and made her way to the veranda. “Did you take pictures?” she asked, nodding at the camera.

“Of course,” Moominpappa said. “I thought I might frame them in the living room, and when they wake up, I'm going to try and convince Joxter and Snufkin to take a family photo all together.”

“What about me? I’m family too!” Little My said.

“That’s true,” Moominpappa said. “How about one without and one with? Oh, and then we can take a photo of everyone all together!”

That seemed to satisfy Little My, and she sat down for some lemonade while Moominpappa got up to find his camera tripod.

As Snufkin and Moomin approached Joxter and the woodies, they saw that it really _ was _ an adorable scene. Joxter was simply covered in children, all peacefully asleep in the warm sunlight. Joxter’s hat had been knocked off his head, and one of the woodies had curled up into it. Joxter had a slight smile on his face, and the whole scene was so sweet it almost moved Moomin to tears.

It was not a scene that stayed for very long, though. As they approached, a few woodies stirred, woken by the noise of Moomin’s footsteps. As soon as one had blinked his eyes open, he was wide awake. “Daddy!” he cried out, jumping up and running over.

That woke up the other woodies, and quickly enough, a small swarm was running for Snufkin. He knelt down to hug them all, and then he said, “I was so worried about you all! Next time, you really _ must _ tell me if you are going to run off somewhere!”

Two dozen apologies and promises were made all at once, and finally, Snufkin relaxed, knowing that his kids were alright. 

He looked up and saw that Joxter had woken up too, and was now stretching the sleep out of his bones. “Afternoon,” Joxter said, walking over to him and Moomin.

“You could have at least left a note,” Snufkin said, not quite ready to forgive his father for frightening him like that.

“I should have, but I didn’t think about it,” Joxter said. “If I’d thought I would be spending the whole day with them, I’d have at least left an arrow in the dirt for you to follow. I’m sorry for scaring you, son.”

His apology was genuine, and Snufkin was relieved that Joxter really hadn’t intended to frighten him as some sort of joke or something. He’d known his father for more than a year now, and while Joxter didn’t really seem like the kind of person to play cruel jokes on people he liked, Snufkin still couldn’t help but worry sometimes about other people’s intentions. It was a survival instinct out on the road, and sometimes it was hard to shake, even in Moominvalley and even around his family.

“Grandpa took us mushroom picking!” one of the woodies piped up.

“Yeah, we all picked mushrooms for Moominmamma!”

“It was so fun!”

“Grandpa scared away the mean old stinky creature too!”

“Yeah with just a look too!”

“He was going to take our mushrooms!”

“Can we go on a trip to see Grandma Mymble?”

“Yeah, I wanna see the giant turtle!” 

“Did you know Great-Grandma was a pirate?”

“I saw a fairy circle today!”

“Moominmamma made us sandwiches!”

“Alright, alright!” Snufkin said, now that the woodies were starting to talk over each other on multiple subjects. “Why don’t we walk back towards Moominhouse, and then one at a time, you can each tell me your favorite part of the day?”

The woodies ran off. Snufkin, Joxter, and Moomin followed at a slower pace.

“You know,” Joxter said, with a grin in his voice. “I’m pretty sure even Mymble didn’t have twenty-four all at once.”

“They are not mine,” Snufkin said. “I adopted them.”

Joxter raised an eyebrow. “Well that kind of _ does _make them yours, doesn’t it?”

“You know what I meant,” Snufkin said sourly. His face was much redder than usual, Joxter noticed.

“So do you keep them in your tent? I don’t think you’re going to be able to keep that up when they start growing. You might have to think about building a house.”

“The park keeper looks after them most of the time!” Moomin piped up.

“You’re on good terms with a park keeper? Really?”

“I chased the old one out,” Snufkin said. “The new one is better, and doesn’t put signs up everywhere.”

“Well, I’ve certainly learned lots of new things today,” Joxter said, with a sort of detached affability. “First I have grandchildren, and now my son’s friends with a park keeper. What’s next? You and Moomintroll aren’t planning a secret wedding or anything, are you?”

“_ Dad! _” Snufkin said, pulling his hat down over his face.

“I think it would be great fun to plan a secret wedding!” Moomin said. “But we don’t know anyone who’s getting married!”

Joxter genuinely could not tell if Moomin was deliberately misinterpreting what he said or not. Either way, it seemed like Snufkin was going to die of embarrassment, so he decided to let the subject drop.

“Joxter!” Moominpappa called out as they got close to the house. Joxter waved back, and meandered over to the veranda.

“Hullo, Moomin,” Joxter said. “I thought I might get to see you around here eventually.”

“You’re quite horrible you know, visiting with my wife all throughout the day and not once even saying hello to me,” Moominpappa said, with an exaggerated pout. “One might question which one of us you’re really friends with!”

“Oh well, the answer to that question is definitely Moominmamma,” Joxter said with a grin. Moominpappa gasped in offence, while Moominmamma laughed.

“Are you staying for long?” Moominpappa asked hopefully.

Joxter shook his head. “Only a few days, I’m afraid. I’m meeting Hodgkins up north, but I figured I’d stop by and bother everyone since I was going through Moominvalley anyway.”

“What’s Hodgkins doing up north?” Moominpappa asked.

Joxter waved his hand dismissively. “Boat stuff, like always,” he said. “His engine mechanic quit and he asked if I’d like to join him on the next trip.”

“And you’re actually going to do it?” Moominpappa asked. “The Joxter, _ voluntarily _signing up for a job?”

Joxter scoffed, and leaned against the veranda railing. “Please, Moomin, I’m not signing up for a job. I’m signing up for a few months of ‘adventuring’ and not actually doing anything, because the engine’s not going to break down. I’ve got a good feeling about it.”

The look in Moominpappa’s eyes told Joxter that he didn’t believe him.

Joxter shrugged. “I really don’t think that this trip is going to be any trouble. I’ve met the kind of people that Hodgkins hires now. They’re competent, reliable, experienced, and frankly, pretty boring. It’ll be a nice two-month nap unless we happen to run into Mymble, in which case I may just have to desert from Hodgkins’s crew, not that he’ll mind much.”

“I bet he’ll mind if the engine breaks down,” Moominpappa said.

“Nah,” Joxter said. “He knows enough about engines that he could fix things himself, he just doesn’t like to do it these days.”

“Why not?” 

“Because he’s old. Like you,” Joxter said, with a grin.

Moominpappa spluttered something about how he was barely in his forties, and then said, “Now wait a minute, you’re eight months older than I am!”

“Yeah,” Joxter said, stifling a laugh. “But you’re _ old. _ Ancient. A senior citizen. Practically a grandfather already.”

“Bold words from someone who just spent a whole day with his twenty-four grandchildren,” Moominpappa said.

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, and then dissolved into laughter. They couldn’t even look each other in the eye before one or the other would start cackling again. It was the bold, breathless laughter of old friends who weren’t particularly funny but had learned each other’s sense of humor enough that they found each other hilarious anyway. Moominmamma shook her head, smiling. 

Then she called out, “Snufkin! Moomin! Gather up the children over here, please, your fathers would like to take some family photos!”

“We would?” Joxter asked.

“We would,” Moominpappa said. Still laughing a bit, he grabbed his tripod and camera and went to set them up facing the house. 

It wasn’t difficult to round up the woodies and get them to stand in lines on the veranda steps, and then Moominpappa had Joxter and Snufkin sit on either edge so that the woodies were between them. After a few pictures like that, Little My got to join them front and center (as she was so small that anywhere else simply wouldn’t do). Then, Moominpappa set a timer on the camera so that everyone could be in the pictures. They had a few serious ones, and then a lot of silly ones, taking enough of them that the film eventually ran out. Everyone was in high spirits by the end of it.

Eventually, Snufkin rounded up his many children to take them fruit-picking for dinner. Moominmamma had offered to let them all join the Moomins for dinner, but Snufkin had insisted. He was never one to abuse the hospitality of the Moomins, and they’d already provided meals for a small army twice today. So off he went, with a small parade behind him, into the forest, with Moomin and Little My tagging along just because they could.

Moominmamma couldn’t pretend it wasn’t a relief to only need to make a small meal for three, and the adults sat on the veranda with their dinners and wine.

“You know, Joxter, I never knew you could make pancakes,” Moominmamma said.

“Mymble taught me to do it years ago,” Joxter said, “but I don’t typically cook in a kitchen, so it’s not something I do often.”

“I wasn’t aware you could cook at all,” Moominpappa teased. “You certainly didn’t on the _ Oshun Oxtra _.”

“Pretty poor wanderer I’d make if I couldn’t make my own food,” Joxter said. “I’ve been cooking since I was...oh, seven probably? Food is better when someone else makes it, though, and Muddler always liked cooking, so we just traded chores a lot. I cooked a lot more in the winters when you were hibernating, but that was just because when we were down a person everyone did more work and Hodgkins made sure we all did it equally.”

“What foods _ do _ you know how to cook then?” Moominpappa asked.

“More than you, probably,” Joxter joked.

“Oh I doubt that,” Moominpappa said.

The rest of the afternoon was spent determining who knew how to cook more foods, arguing whether two recipes should be counted as one if they were only slightly different, and then just trading and comparing recipes in general. They decided that, regardless of whether it was Joxter or Moominpappa who knew more recipes, Moominmamma had both of them beat by a significant amount. They also found out that, by some coincidence, Moominmamma’s grandmother and Joxter’s grandpa had taught them the exact same recipe for comfort soup, down to the instruction to sing a lullaby while cooking it so that it would be infused with love.

At twilight, Snufkin and his children wandered back out of the forest, with Little My and Moomin in tow. Moomin and Snufkin were both carrying several children, and the rest were clearly just as tired. Little My wandered back towards Moominhouse, but Moomin stayed to help Snufkin tuck all the kids in, being exceedingly soft and gentle, helping round up the ones that protested and sweet-talking them into at least laying down and being quiet. Once they were done, they sat outside by the fire pit, leaning against each other and talking. Little My made a retching noise, and headed inside.

“They really do take after their mothers, don’t they?” Joxter said softly.

“Quite,” Moominpappa said, lighting his pipe. “I think they’re going to be excellent parents.”

“I don’t think they have a choice,” Joxter said, jokester-tone back. “If they do anything bad, Moominmamma will just give them a look of disappointment that guilts them into shaping up immediately.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll need to do that,” Moominmamma said. “They’re already doing quite wonderfully on their own.”

Joxter hummed in agreement, pulling out his own pipe. As he filled it, he said, “Hey Moomin.”

“Hmm?” Moominpappa asked.

“How does it feel to be a grandfather?”

Moominpappa gave a bark of laughter. Then, seriously, he said, “Well, I certainly didn’t expect to feel so old so quickly.”

“Ha! Imagine how I feel. I barely had time to adjust to being a father, and already I have two dozen grandchildren.”

“I’ve been a father for more than a decade, and trust me, I feel the same way.”

“I don’t think we ever really adjust to parenthood, we just stumble along, terrified, and hope for the best,” Moominmamma said with a gentle smile.

“Hear, hear,” Moominpappa said, raising his pipe in a toast.

“True enough,” Joxter mumbled, looking out towards Snufkin’s tent.

The three of them sat in silence for a few moments in the darkening night. Then, slowly, Joxter and Moominpappa moved to clear away the dishes, and Moominmamma called Moomin back home.

Little My was waiting in the kitchen. “Are they still being gross out there?” she asked.

“Why, Little My, I thought you liked gross things?” Joxter asked teasingly, depositing a stack of dishes into the kitchen sink.

“_Proper _ gross things, like worms and bugs!" Little My said, and stomped her foot. "They way they’re acting is just insufferable!”

“The way who are acting, Little My?” Moomin asked, coming in through the kitchen door.

Little My sighed loudly in response. “I’m going to bed,” she announced.

“Good night,” Joxter said mildly as she thundered up the stairs. Moomin just looked confused, trying to guess who had annoyed Little My this time.

The household settled into bed slowly after that. As Joxter fell asleep in the guest bedroom, he thought that maybe having grandchildren wouldn’t be so bad. At the very least, they didn’t seem to be the horrible little terrors that he had been for _ his _ Grandpa Joxter. In fact, it was kind of...nice, to have a bunch of little kids trailing after him. It reminded him of the early days of his and Mymble’s relationship.

Maybe he could handle this whole grandpa thing after all.


End file.
